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In a small farming village in Japan, such as the one where
I became a woodworker, it was the custom that when a baby
girl was born in a family, the parents prepared material for
items that the bride would take to her wedding ceremony. The
objects traditionally made were tansu (chest of drawers),
geta bako (shoe cabinet), tachi-ita (tailoring board) and
hari-ita (drying board). When the girl was engaged to be married,
her parents called us and, except for the tansu, my master
and I made these items. When we arrived at our customer's
home, the girl's father would go to the attic to fetch the
material he had prepared twenty-some years ago. He cleaned
the pile of dust from it. Then, as he came down the stairs,
anyone could see the mixed emotions on his face. In one way
he was very happy and proud that she had grown so beautifully
and would now have her own family. But, on the other hand,
the loving beautiful baby girl would now fly away from him.
In 1975, I had a baby boy, my son Shobu. As a sentimental
father, I embraced the village's custom and, even though I
had a baby boy, I cut beautiful parts of red and white oak
for him for the day he'd marry. I sliced the wood into 1"
and 1-1/4" thick pieces that were 24" to 28"
wide. With this wood, I wanted to make a cabinet or something
he could use in his house.
On December 23, 1999, a young woodworker friend invited me
for a holiday dinner. He lived in a beautiful, newly finished
house, although the interior was not quite completed. He was
talking about his plans and ideas about furniture and cabinetwork
for his house, and as I listened, my mind was clicking, and
suddenly I decided: I would make a cabinet for Pat with the
material that I had saved for Shobu. Pat is a very giving
and considerate person; even my son sometimes gives me the
feeling that he loves and cares for her more than he does
for his own parents. I wanted to make her happy, not in return
for her gifts, but because of who she is. I have often heard
her say that even though she is not afraid to die tomorrow,
she is having the best time of her life now. And also, she
wishes she was still young and healthy, so she could play
with her beautiful grandchildren. I wish I could help her
keep her health and youth forever.
On the way home, I was very enthusiastic. The idea evolved
quickly; one thing led to another, as all these episodes came
together nicely. This project would be a way by which I could
fulfill many personal wishes. I would make a very fine cabinet
for Pat, using all the appropriate traditional joinery and
methods, and I could keep my old memories and the Japanese
tradition of making a cabinet for a woman. Patricia's bridal
cabinet would be a special reminder of her youth and all those
beautiful memories. The top of the cabinet would be decorated
with beautiful flowers, just like a bride would be. I could
keep my sentiment for my son Shobu. I would ask Pat to write
a will specifying that after she finishes using the cabinet,
it would go to my son Shobu. If for some reason he cannot
receive it, then it should go to one of her children. I did
not tell her my concept for quite a long time; however, I
knew that she would accept my terms.
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